


Way Up North Where the Air Gets Cold

by Crockzilla, notlucy



Series: We Wish You a Merry Kink-mas [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Deadpool - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Baking, Bigfoot Hunting, Boxing Day, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, Dad!Steve, Dadpool, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Drinking Games, F/M, Fire, Fireplaces, Fluff, Gen, Impact Play, Kissing, Legos, Little!Bucky - Freeform, Little!Tony, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Multi, Mummy!Peggy, Muppet References, Non-Sexual Age Play, Or at least discussions thereof, Peggy Carter is a fun drunk, Polyamory, Reading Aloud, Schmoop, Shameless, Silly, Sledding, Snow, The walls are not soundproof, Toys, Wizard of Oz References, little!peter, santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 02:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13067364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crockzilla/pseuds/Crockzilla, https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlucy/pseuds/notlucy
Summary: Peter and Wade invite all their friends to a secluded cabin for a holiday that is both serene and chaste. Or: Peggy drinks wine and Pepper saves the day. Alternatively: the walls are not soundproof, Tony would like you to know.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This ridiculous piece of schmoop takes place in the shared universe we have created between our [Brownstone in Brooklyn](http://archiveofourown.org/series/804555) and [Domesti-Kink with Spideypool](http://archiveofourown.org/series/782775) series. 
> 
> You don't need to read the other stories to understand this one. So long as you can roll with Peggy Carter being in the future (because A Wizard Did It) and involved in a polyamorous triad with Steve and Bucky. The trio is very good friends with Wade and Peter, as well as Tony and Pepper. Everyone is kinky, everyone kind of knows about everyone else's proclivities, and when there is non-sexual ageplay involved all the "kids" play together. 
> 
> This fic is the first part of our "We Wish You a Merry Kink-mas" series. We'll spend the next 12 days posting one vignette a day, though the 31st. These vignettes will fill in some of the gaps in the main story - IE: where _did_ Bucky, Steve and Peggy disappear to, and _why_ are Steve and Peter so sore on Boxing Day? That is to say: the vignettes will be explicit where the main story is not. 
> 
> Basically, this is PURE FLUFF that we wrote to amuse ourselves and to give us warm, holiday squishies. We hope you enjoy!

Bucky happened to see Wade and Peter’s address when he set the stack of mail down on their counter. It was a good thing he saw the back of the card first before turning it over as he would have spit his coffee out all over the sink he had just cleaned. His friends stared up at him, wearing honest to god sweater vests – not like ugly Xmas sweaters which had been in vogue a few years ago (because Bucky _did_ keep up with shit like that no matter what he told Tony) but actual sweater vests with color-coordinated button-downs, the creepiest of creepy smiles on their faces. It was as if every frightening family Xmas card had been distilled into one single, horrifying image.

In the negative space, where he assumed normal friends or family would write “love from us” or something, Peter and Wade had just scrawled the word CABIN – over and over again in block letters. Bucky sighed – he hoped their poor mail-carrier hadn’t seen this because he would surely think they were corresponding with serial killers.

But he used the shaky-crab magnet Clint had brought them from Florida to affix their horror card to the fridge because the card had done what Wade and Peter had surely intended for it do – he was _super_ excited about spending Xmas in a cabin with these weirdos.

 

* * *

 

“Why do we need to _find_ a tree?” Tony asked over the phone. “Why don’t I just use my exorbitant wealth to have a tree _brought_ to us, already decorated?”

“Because the whole point of Xmas in a cabin is to cut your own tree,” Peter insisted, scanning his groceries at the self-checkout with one hand as he held his phone to his ear with the other.

“I thought the point of Xmas in a cabin was so we could be Little whenever we want and have kinky sex with our various partners the rest of the time,” Tony said.

“Shhh!” Peter glanced at the little old Latina ladies around him, the only other people who were shopping for baking ingredients in the middle of a weekday. “Yes, well, that, but also please bring a saw so we can cut down a real tree, okay? I’ve lived in Queens my whole life, I’ve never had a real tree.”

Tony mock-sighed. “Fine – I’ll bring a damn saw so you can have a real tree, Tiny Tim.”

 

* * *

 

“Peg, Bucky and I can’t even get drunk,” Steve protested.

“What’s your point, darling?”

He gestured to the three boxes of spirits he was currently loading into the car. “I just mean...there are a limited amount of us going on this excursion who can even enjoy this stuff. I don’t think you need this much…”

Peggy’s finger over his mouth silenced him. “Shh, no. First of all: it’s _Xmas_. Second of all: just pack the car and don’t cause yourself any unnecessary grief, Rogers.”

“You know,” Bucky said drily, looking up from where he was arranging their luggage in the trunk like building blocks. (He’d insisted he could do it himself and had been cursing that decision for the past five minutes.) “Some of us just like the taste of it, Stevie.”

 

* * *

 

“...that’s a cabin?”

“That’s a _cabin_?”

“Hmph.”

The Greatest Generation Triad had feelings to share about what did and what did not constitute a real cabin. Namely: running water and indoor toilets. Everyone stopped listening to them after the first few minutes, and Steve was sent out to collect firewood.

“At least,” he remarked to Peggy upon heading out the door. “It’s not a _gas fireplace_.”

“Oh my God.” (Somehow, despite not having enhanced hearing, Tony Stark was capable of picking up Steve Rogers being a grandpa from fifty feet away.)

 

* * *

 

Wade handed Cap five more little balls of newspaper. They were _not_ going to use the “starter log” that the rental company had provided because this was Xmas Dad Task #1 and they could get a fire going, goddamnit.

“Hey, pal,” Steve gestured to him as he got a wooden match ready, “you look very nice, but I’m afraid that could get singed.”

Wade glanced down at his frilly, full-body Xmas apron, an early present from his beloved that was bedecked with Santas and reindeer, and he’d almost _singed_ it. “Oh, jesus!” he exclaimed, quickly removing it and laying it neatly on the arm of one of the overstuffed armchairs in the living room. “There we go. Light this motherfucker up, Cap.”

“Oh,” came a worried voice just before Steve could set a match to their handiwork. “Should, uh,” Peter asked, tentatively, “should Peggy maybe take a look before you guys light that?”

Wade gasped loudly. “What do you _mean_? Cap is from the forties when fire was their only source of heat or light, and I am a _Canadian_ , and we have constructed an immaculate fire, look at it.”

“Oh, are you Canadian, honey?” Peter sassed over Cap’s quiet protests that they had electricity in the forties. “None of us knew that about you. Why don’t you ever talk about it?”

Wade told Peter in eyebrow-language that he would not hesitate to spank that smart ass in front of all of their friends, and Peter told him back in eyebrow-language that that was perfectly acceptable (or he was threatening to spank Wade, the right brow waggle was ambiguous, but either way it was going to be an _awesome_ Xmas).

“I was a Girl Scout,” Pepper said helpfully from her spot on the couch next to Tony where they were sorting through all the various Xmas movies that had been brought along.

“You can’t help these people, dear,” Tony told her, “they’re all hopped up on testosterone and good cheer, and it’s best just to let them oh my _good gosh_ who brought this?”

Tony, face suddenly full of wonder, held up the special anniversary blu-ray of _Love Actually._ “I did,” Wade said, quietly.

“We’re watching this first,” Tony declared, which prompted everyone else in the cabin (including Pepper) to start making vomiting noises. Wade pouted as Peter launched into a rant about how it was the most heteronormative movie ever made.

Tony leaned close to Wade, cradling his precious blu-ray in his hands. “We will watch this when all of these soulless pieces of trash are asleep.”

Wade clasped Tony’s shoulder and nodded. For the first time ever, he wouldn’t have to watch his problematic fave alone under a blanket.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy, especially, had been impressed by the fireplace. And the fire - which she and Pepper had gotten going for Steve and Wade after an hour of miserable failures. (“This time. This is the fire. This is the fire that stays lit!”)

She’d stayed up well past the rest of them, even Tony, though nobody really thought Tony was _sleeping_ , he was just going to the room he and Pepper were sharing to (probably) stay up all night.

Steve found her with a book and a mug of tea at her side, not reading, just watching the flames flicker at two in the morning.

“Hi,” he said, hating to break her reverie, but not wanting to startle her too badly with his presence.

She did flinch a little, jumping in place and looking in his direction. “Oh, Steve…” she smiled. “Hello.”

“Can’t sleep?” he offered, crossing to perch on the arm of the sofa near her.

“Haven’t tried,” she admitted. “I’m enjoying this too much.”

“The book or the fire?”

“Both,” she smiled, shifting a bit, so there was room for him on the couch. He settled himself in behind her, both arms wrapping around her as she leaned against his chest, pulling her blanket back up around them both. “Bucky’s asleep?”

“Yelling at Tony about Monopoly tired him out,” Steve replied with a shrug, kissing the top of her head. “Wore me out, too, but I woke up, and you weren’t there.”

“Missing me?” she teased, tipping her head back to look up at him.

“Always.”

“Would you like to ah…” she shrugged, gesturing vaguely. “What do the kids call it? Make out?”

“I can’t imagine why we wouldn’t,” he smirked.

So, they did.

 

* * *

 

“I would just like to state,” Tony began over breakfast. “That while these are very nice rooms, they are not soundproof. For the record.”

Everyone had the good grace to look just the tiniest bit guilty. But only a tiny bit.

“Well,” Bucky sighed, pushing back from his mound of ginger pancakes, “what are we gonna do, _not_ have sex with each other?”

“I’m not saying _that_ ,” Tony clarified quickly. “Just maybe we could try to be -- less -- loud --?”

A chorus of “Nos” erupted from multiple people at the table. Including Pepper. Tony turned to her with a scandalized look. “You can _not_ be quiet,” Pepper shrugged. “It’s not a thing you can do.”

“What if,” Peter chimed in helpfully (as Wade and Bucky snorked into their coffee mugs), “instead of trying to be less loud we all try to be as loud as possible so that no one’s individual sex noises stand out?”

“I’m in,” Bucky said.

“No,” Tony replied. “That’s worse! Then it’s...look, Red Scare, I don’t need to know whose name you’re calling out.”

“Bucky’s not that loud,” Peggy said primly. “Steve’s the shouter.” She took a bite of toast. Waiting.

True to form, Bucky laughed for two minutes straight. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. Tony left the table.

 

* * *

 

Tony’s idea of a ‘saw’ involved a high-powered laser that could slice through bark like butter. Peter was the tiniest bit disappointed that it was so safe, but he perked right up when Steve pointed out the genuine danger of a tree falling the wrong direction and dismembering them that way instead.

He and Steve were now out ahead of the rest of the group, chatting away about the various types of tree-impalement that were possible. Wade caught only occasional snippets of their conversation, but it sounded like they’d moved on to how one might field dress a full-torso puncture wound. Having hobbies was good.

“Do you think,” Peggy said absently, siding up to Wade. “If...one were a masochist, talking about being impaled by tree branches. One might be interested in a switch made from said branches? Or...” She mused, reaching into her pocket for the flask she’d been carrying around for the better part of two days. Peggy Carter was a fun drunk. “Being made to cut it one’s self has a certain poetic quality…”

“Weeell,” Wade mused, scooping up a handful of the blanket of snow that lay on the ground (because they were truly in Hallmark Xmas Special land), “we could wait until said tree is in the cabin and all decorated and _then_ make them cut their own switches.”

“Do you mean,” Peggy asked in a mock-scandalized tone as Wade shaped his handful of snow into a tight ball, “that we would make our darling boys go through the trouble of un-decorating branches, giving them loads of time to contemplate what we’re going to do to them with said branches, possibly while others are gathered around the tree in question wondering what they’re doing?”

“Pooossibly,” Wade said innocently.

“Damn. I already regret buying a ready-made birch.”

Peter and Steve’s conversation about the pros and cons of cauterizing was interrupted by the sound of their sweethearts laughing maniacally behind them.

“Oh, that,” Steve shook his head, looking back at Peggy and Wade as they clutched each other to stay standing, “that can’t be good, huh?”

“Or, it could be _very_ good,” Peter said, “but it almost certainly has something to do with things that are going to be done to our bodies later.”

 

* * *

 

“Okay, in exactly 30 minutes I am going to age down and not age back up until Boxing Day,” Tony announced, setting his watch, “so if anyone needs me to do anything adult, here’s your window.”

“Come hold part of this couronne!” Peter called somewhat frantically as he, Pepper, and Bucky carefully attempted to move their massive Xmas pastry from the baking sheet to the cooling rack.

“Sooo,” Wade leaned close to his dad!friend as Tony grabbed a spatula and dove in to help, “how’s Tony being Little gonna work with Pepper here? Is she gonna be, like, extra-Mom?”

Steve shrugged as he donned his baking apron that he was borrowing from Bucky (which wasn’t as festive or frilly as Wade’s but they still looked very competent, which was the goal). “No idea. Figured I’d let them handle that.”

Wade wolf-whistled. “Look at you, being all let-other-people-worry-about-things.”

“We’ve got enough to worry about with making the Santa cookies,” Steve said low enough to keep Peter and Bucky, the Baking Dictators, from hearing.

“Whaaat? We’re gonna do great!” Wade said with a confident arm pump. “We slayed at Dad Tasks #1 and #2 already, #3 will be a cinch!”

“Pepper and Peggy had to rebuild our fire,” Steve reminded him, “and a National Park Ranger tried to take our tree away.”

“That...fair. Fair,” Wade agreed. “But cookies. We have a _recipe_.”

“Sure,” Steve nodded. “The Internet is never wrong about these things, right?”

“...right!”

As it turned out, Wade was the one who had a certain amount of baking prowess, while Steve did his level best to assist. Wade, mercifully, kept him from dumping an entire cup of salt into the batter. When Steve protested that they looked the same, Wade chose not to point out to his dad!friend that it said SALT in big letters right on the side of the container he’d scooped it out of. Of course, Steve could’ve been distracted by Peter, who kept sneaking into the kitchen to “make sure they didn’t need help” but Wade had anticipated this and brought along a spray-bottle.

The cookies themselves turned out fine, after the near disaster, and everyone who was going to be Little had aged down by the time decorating started. Steve, ever the artist, excelled at that part, using the frosting to create fun-looking Santas, with detailed faces that managed to be expressive.

“Those are great,” Pepper commented as she passed by the table.

“I did some, too,” Tony informed her, holding up his current creation, which certainly was a cookie.

“You sure did,” Pepper replied, giving no further insight into their particular dynamic.

And that was fine because in a cabin full of Littles hopped up on sugar and Xmas Eve excitement, everyone’s dynamic was survival.

“What if Santa doesn’t know where we are though because we’re not at our houses?” Peter asked in near panic as he clung to Bucky who was holding him (or was he holding Bucky? How old was Bucky right now?)

“Santa will know where we are, darlings,” Peggy reassured them both.

“We should go outside and run in big circles and make like a runway!” Peter suggested. Bucky nodded enthusiastically.

Oh Jesus -- the thought of getting the kids in snow gear and then getting them cleaned up after and it was already dusk... “We’ve got to eat dinner, pal,” Steve deflected. “We can’t go to sleep unless we eat dinner, and Santa won’t come until we’re all asleep.”

Steve looked around frantically for Wade as Peggy continued calming Peter and Bucky (who were now concerned that Santa wouldn’t come if they couldn’t go to sleep because they were too excited) but Wade was trying to talk Tony out of going outside with the giant sled that he was holding. Steve looked for Pepper, who was serenely making dinner. They’d all thought it was really generous of Pepper to offer to make Xmas Eve spaghetti. Now Steve saw her game. Good one.

“Don’t we have films that need watching?” Peggy asked, a slight tinge of desperation in her voice.

“We haven’t watched _Muppets Xmas Carol_ yet!” Wade realized, and ecstatic relief flooded all three parents as their kiddos chorused “Muppets!” and moved quickly to the couch (Steve gave Wade a special dad!friend thumbs up as he deftly hid the sled behind a curtain).

Peggy managed to refrain from making any comments about Dickensian Muppets, which Steve thought showed a remarkable amount of restraint. She did ask, quietly, if they might watch _The Wizard of Oz_ at some point, despite it not being strictly a Xmas movie.

Peggy ended up settling in with Bucky on the couch to play with his hair, which was one of their favorite things to do. “Poppet, do you remember what we talked about?” she murmured, quietly enough that the others couldn’t hear, since she got the sense that Bucky was still the _tiniest_ bit worried about Santa not showing up for him.

“Um…” Because they talked about a lot.

“About calling your wishes up the chimney?” she asked, recalling one of her own fond memories of the holiday, wherein she and her brother had crouched by the fire, shouting what they wanted up the chimney, where their words would linger in time for Santa to collect them.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Yes! I forgot! We can do that!”

“We’ll do it after the film if you like.”

“Yes, please,” he agreed, looking very relieved.

They waited until the movie was done before Peggy gathered all the kids by the fireplace and crouched down with them. “Now,” she said, in her Most Dramatic Voice. “You’re each to tell Santa what you want most. Your words will go up the chimney and wait there for him to arrive. If you’ve been good, you’ll have presents waiting in the morning.”

“What if,” Steve piped up from somewhere in the vicinity of the sofa, “you _haven’t_ been good?”

Peggy smirked, her mouth twitching as she looked up at him. “Then you’ll get coal in your stocking. And a switch.”

“Huh,” Steve replied.

“I’m going first,” Tony informed them. He leaned in close to the fire (but not too close) before speaking confidently into the flames. “Santa. I want a new particle accelerator. And a pony. And Legos for Daddy.”

(Steve had spent a full minute trying not to swear earlier in the evening after stepping on one of their Lego pieces with bare feet.)

“Thank you, darling,” Peggy replied, suppressing a laugh as she turned to Peter and Bucky. “Who’s next?”

“Me!” Peter said, excitedly, glancing at Wade with a big, sunny smile before taking Tony’s place by the flames. “I would like…a van for April and the Turtles and also more Legos for Uncle Steve.”

“Good job,” Wade grinned, giving him a big thumbs up as Steve shook his head.

“Bucky?” Peggy prompted. Bucky had been thinking, chewing on his lower lip.

“I would like…” he began. “A new coloring book and pencils. And...more Legos for Daddy!”

“You know what, fellas…” Steve began, as Peggy snorted into her hand, Pepper burst out laughing, and Wade put a pillow over his face.

 

* * *

 

“Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters, and fell on my --”

“Daddy, no!”

Steve tried _so_ hard not to laugh as Wade looked innocently around at the Littles, who were all giggling madly, two of them curled up between him and Peg (who was not even _trying_ to hide her snickering as she sipped her fourth full glass of Xmas Eve Wine).

“What?” Wade asked as Peter hid his face in Wade’s neck in embarrassment over his Dad Humor which was, agh, _so_ cute.

“Uncle _Wade_ ,” Tony giggled, “you’re _doing_ it wrong!”

“I’m just reading what’s in the book,” Wade protested, indicating the gorgeously-illustrated hardbound copy of _Night Before Xmas_ that Peggy had found.

“I sure hope Santa didn’t hear that, Uncle Wade,” Steve said, which caused all of the Littles to abruptly stop giggling and look at Wade with huge, worried eyes, which caused Wade to apologize profusely and start reading again, without his hilarious improvisations.

Steve watched as Peter’s eyes drooped and he shook himself awake, which Steve recognized as a classic fighting-sleep move. He felt Bucky’s weight press into his side as he relaxed, resting his head on top of Tony’s, who was curled up against him but also holding Peggy’s hand as they listened to the familiar story. Steve glanced over at Pepper, who he was constantly worried would feel left out, but she looked perfectly happy, sitting in the cozy armchair with her own glass of Xmas Eve Wine, watching the kids get sleepy. Steve reached out with the arm that was around Bucky to pet Tony’s hair and then reached a bit further to stroke his fingers over Peggy’s cheek. She turned and looked at him, smiling one of her sweet, secret smiles, the blinking lights from the tree illuminating her face in different colors. And he had a strong urge to go grab his sketch pad and try to capture a little bit of how she looked at this moment, but he didn’t want to disturb the almost-sleeping kiddos nestled between them. He’d just have to look at her some more so he remembered -- he could do that.

 

* * *

 

“What the _actual_ fuck--”

Wade winced as he watched Cap swallow a yowl of pain after pinching his thumb between two pieces of The Goddamn Giant Play Set. Wade was not having any more luck with the section that he was trying to put together, and Peggy and Pepper were desperately trying to connect two other sections without breaking them. This had seemed like _such_ a good idea when he’d seen it on the internet months ago and emailed it to his fellow parents -- it was as tall as Tony standing up, and it had plenty of room for T-Rex and April and the Turtles _and_ Glamazons _and_ Robots, and it was _Disney_ themed, and there were slides and secret turning walls, and it was _perfect_...or it would be if they survived putting it together.

“Did anyone bring a hot glue gun?” Pepper asked in a whisper so as not to wake the Littles who were all asleep in their respective bedrooms.

“No,” Wade and Peggy and Steve chorused in voices that reflected their disappointment in themselves for their short-sightedness. (Wade privately squeed that his fellow Parents also owned a hot glue gun and he was _so_ going to set up a Crafting Play Date.)

“Chins up, everyone,” Peggy whispered, her voice steely as she succeeded in getting the two big sections together. “Think of their faces when they see what Santa’s left them.”

“I’m so sorry this is happening to us,” Wade whispered as he abandoned his section to help Steve, who seemed unable to not pinch his digits between the hard plastic pieces.

“No, they’ll love it,” Steve reassured as they finally got the two parts together, and now it was actually starting to look like something. “And going in on one huge present instead of each of us bringing a bunch of little presents was a fantastic idea.”

“Totes,” Wade whispered, squashing his impulse to confess that he’d actually brought a present (or two [uh-oh actually three]) for each Little, but kid stuff was just _too_ much fun.


	2. Chapter 2

Peggy had been very right -- the looks on their little kiddos’ faces when they came into the main room to see their Giant Play Set of Doom under the tree was easily worth the two-plus hours it had taken them to put the goddamn thing together.

Wade sighed contentedly as he watched Peter play with his buddies and their new action figures on their new play set (because he had not been the only parent who couldn’t resist getting extra presents for each Little, turned out). Cap sat down next to him on the cozy couch, handing him a mug of coffee (that had a generous helping of Grand Marnier in it which wouldn’t give either of them so much as a buzz but tasted _delicious_ ). Wade thought they both looked lovely in their new matching dad!sweaters which were, adorably enough, a gift from Pepper.

“Merry Xmas, Dad Friend,” Steve said, clinking his own mug against Wade’s.

“Aw, you, too, Dad Friend,” Wade replied. “We successfully unlocked all of our Dad Achievements: no one froze to death, nothing burned down--”

“And we only almost got arrested once,” Steve finished, brightly.

They sat together and watched their little ones play in their super cute new flannel PJs until the Dads were finally sent into the kitchen to make bacon and eggs because the children were “going to _starve_ to death.” And they _still_ didn’t burn anything down.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure, sweet pea?”

Peter nodded solemnly, so Wade kissed him on the forehead and jumped on the conveniently huge sled with Bucky and Tony, who were bouncing up and down with great excitement. “Daddy, you, too!” Bucky insisted.

“No,” Steve ruffled his little guy’s hair, placatingly, “I’m afraid that’d be one too many, pal.”

“But more Daddies means _even_ _faster_ ,” Tony reminded, giving him the Big Eyes.

“This’ll be plenty fast, my dudes,” Wade reassured them, doing his best to bundle both Littles securely to him while holding the rope that steered the sled (but that didn’t so much “steer” as gave you a false sense of security so that you almost ran your kids into a tree, Steve had discovered). He let Bucky and Tony count off before he gave the heavily-laden sled a running push over the edge of the hill.

The rest of them watched and cheered as the sled shot down the impressively steep hill off the front yard of their cabin, and Steve could hear his kids’ screams of delight -- he had to admit, that did look incredibly fast. Too fast for his tastes, maybe, but that’s what Uncle Wades were for. The sled reached the bottom of the slope, avoiding any trees thank goodness, but as they hit the mild upslope that was functioning as their backstop, Wade dramatically tumbled off, taking the boys with him, and also -- his arm popped off.

Steve’s first impulse was to rush down the hill and help his friend, but then he heard the delighted shrieks of laughter coming from Tony and Bucky and realized Wade was using his healing-factor to entertain his nephews, which made Steve chuckle. He looked over at Peggy, who was also giggling and shaking her head -- how exactly had he rigged that one up? They both sobered, however, when they glanced at Pepper, who was not paying attention to the hilarious scene below but to Peter.

“He’s okay, sweetheart,” Pepper said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “It’ll pop right back on, won’t it?”

Peter nodded, but still looked pretty distressed at having watched his daddy lose an arm. Steve’s heart clenched, and he suddenly felt intense dad-empathy for how bad Wade would feel when he realized. “He’s only showing off for the big boys, love,” Peggy reassured.

Below, Bucky and Tony cheered as Wade magically popped his arm back onto his body, and the three of them started trudging back up the prodigious hill, Bucky helping Wade pull and Wade insisting gently that Tony may _not_ ride the sled back up but needed to use his legs, please. Steve looked at Peter, who was smiling now but still looked a little unsteady, and then at the other sled, which was smaller but just as sturdy.

“Hey, buddy, want to ride down together?” Steve asked. “I bet we can get two runs in before those guys even get back up here.”

Peter’s eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. Steve helped him get situated on the sled and sat down behind him, grabbing the “steering” rope and making sure Peter was tucked securely up against his chest, shielded by his arms and legs. “Here we go!” Steve warned helping with one arm as Peggy and Pepper did their best to push them over the edge. Peter’s happy laughter as they zoomed past Wade and the other kids made Steve’s heart swell a bit -- they _were_ going pretty darn fast -- and too soon they hit the bottom of the hill and bumped into the upslope, both of them laughing uncontrollably as they tumbled off the sled.

“Want to trade?” Steve offered when they caught up with Wade and the Giant Sled, which Bucky and Tony were now bickering over getting to ride on (because Uncle Wade was a pushover).

“Here, Daddy,” Peter offered, taking one side of the rope and heaving it forward mightily.

“Thank you, baby,” Wade panted as he took the rope of the smaller sled, relinquishing the big sled to Steve and Peter’s combined super strength, “and Dad Friend.”

“Just keep your limbs on, will ya?” Steve teased before he and Peter took off running up the hill, almost tumbling Bucky and Tony off the back of the sled.

 

* * *

 

Excessive sledding led to excessive napping. It was an equation that just made sense. Or, at least, that was what the adults were aiming for when they corralled everyone into the living room and started up the _Wizard of Oz_ , per Peggy’s request.

Tony and Bucky dogpiled, as was their wont, while Peter curled up in Wade’s lap and Steve and Peggy took the couch. To everyone’s (read: Steve and Wade) great surprise, Pepper ended up sitting on the floor with Tony and Bucky, gradually coaxing Tony over to drop his head to her lap so she could smooth her fingers over his hair. It was a gesture they were all familiar enough with when Tony was Big, but they hadn’t seen the two of them interact that way when he was Little.

It was, in a word, adorable.

Bucky seemed content by himself at first, as Peter, then Tony, then Wade, then Steve all dropped off to sleep. Peggy, Pepper, and Bucky were the only ones left awake, in fact, by the time Dorothy ran into the Cowardly Lion.

That was when Bucky snaked a hand out to grip Peggy’s ankle, chewing on his lip and looking up at her worriedly.

She smiled, patting the empty space next to her on the couch. He didn’t waste much time in clambering up, wrapping both arms around her torso and hiding his face against her neck.

“You’re alright,” she murmured, low enough that only he could hear it, even if someone else happened to be listening. “He’s not really angry.”

“I know,” he said solemnly. “But everyone’s sleeping. Maybe...it’s too loud for them?”

Bucky really was good at getting what he wanted without ever explicitly stating it. “Hmm,” she agreed. “You might be right. Should we turn it down, or off?”

“Maybe…” he thought for a moment. “Maybe just go to the part where they’re all friends?”

Peggy smiled, reaching for the remote, which had fallen from Steve’s lap and onto the couch. She pressed the ‘forward’ button (as it was apparently called) until everyone was falling asleep in poppies. That, apparently, wasn’t scary at all.

 

* * *

 

Naps, it seemed, were the great equalizer, with the Littles mostly aging up by the time they awoke, though Bucky and Peter were a skosh _extra_ cute, while Tony was a bit extra prickly. Nothing out of the norm there.

(And if the Greatest Generation Triad disappeared upstairs for forty minutes before coming back down with smirks on their faces, Bucky looking _especially_ pleased with himself, well, nobody was going to say anything about that.)

(...save for the fact that Wade and Peter had started on dinner and those potatoes weren’t going to peel _themselves_ , Steve.)

 

* * *

 

“Sorry we almost missed helping with dinner.”

Peter smirked as he carefully poured Bacardi 151 over the Amaretto in Bucky’s shot glass. “Yeah, what were you guys up to? It sounded -- _impactful._ ”

“Yeah,” Tony joined in as Bucky rolled his eyes, “sounded like Peg and Steve were really making an -- _impression._ ”

“Sounded like you all were having a -- _spanking_ good time.”

“A, that one doesn’t even make sense,” Bucky retorted as he filled his beer glass halfway, “and B, there’s no way you could hear us downstairs with all the ruckus you were making with your Chef Role Play.”

“No,” Tony admitted, pouring 151 over his own shot glass, “but the ants-in-your-pants during dinner leaves little to the imagination.”

“Lucky,” Peter muttered as Bucky shrugged with a wry smile. “Okay -- we all have our shit beer?”

Tony and Bucky confirmed they did and held their shot glasses aloft for a quick toast, then held very still as Peter set each shot glass on fire with one of the long-stemmed wooden matches they’d found in the cabin.

“Shit!” Tony exclaimed as he dropped his shot glass into his beer glass and splattered beer all over himself, which put him behind Bucky and Peter who were done chugging their concoctions before Tony had started. They helped him along by casting aspersions upon his age and masculinity as he frantically chugged.

“That was like a car bomb, but, uh,” Tony assessed, licking his lips, “awful.”

“That did _not_ taste like Dr. Pepper,” Peter agreed, “but I definitely don’t feel Little anymore, so -- good ritual.”

“Speaking of Pepper and being Little,” Bucky said, turning to Tony, “has your lady had an okay time with all of us running around like kids?”

Tony nodded, his eyes a little glassy, possibly from the stupid amount of alcohol he’d just consumed very quickly. “Yeah. She uh -- wants to try it. As in when we’re home. As in -- the two of us.”

Bucky watched Peter squash the squeal that wanted to escape from him (because he and Wade had gotten to be even _more_ alike than they had always been), but he had to admit to kind of wanting to squeal himself. “That’s great,” he said, clapping Tony on the shoulder in a brotherly way that made him slosh more beer on himself. Tony was evidently beyond caring, though, because he gave Bucky a tight but kind of grateful smile.

Before they could debrief any further, the doors to the patio swung open, and Nat, Clint, and Sam came barreling out onto the snowy back porch.

“What do you _mean_ you’ve aged up already?” Clint asked, indignantly.

“Merry Xmas to you, too,” Bucky greeted.

“You could have at least stayed cute ‘til we got here,” Nat groused as Peter helped her assemble a flaming shot. “We had to deal with your stupid rogue galleries for Xmas.”

“Um, I am _always_ cute,” Tony reminded, “and we’ll make it up to you, Spidey and his Immortal Beloved made this epic pastry involving marzipan.”

“I don’t know what the hell marzipan is,” Sam complained as Nat helped him and Clint assemble their own shots, “but I was _told_ that I’d finally get to hang out with the Baby Avengers --”

“What the _shit?_ ” Wade exclaimed from the open doors with Steve over his shoulder. “Is that _fire_?”

“We’re big now, babe, we can have fire,” Peter said as he lit Nat, Sam, and Clint’s shots.

“This looks _really_ safe,” Steve snarked, giving them a very dad-ish look as he surveyed the table full of alcohol and matches.

“We are surrounded by snow,” Tony rolled his eyes as Sam, Nat, and Clint chugged their drinks. Nat won the race handily. “If any of us comes aflame we’ll just launch ourselves into the yard.”

“Do you four need to do some shots to transition out of Parent-mode?” Bucky suggested.

“Peggy and Pepper are in the hot tub on the upstairs porch with a bottle of champagne, so I think they’re covered,” Steve shared.

“Here,” Peter said, making the Dads drinks as Natasha gracefully excused herself and sped upstairs.

 

* * *

 

“I think I might like Boxing Day even better than Xmas Actual.”

Peter and Steve, who were stretched out on their stomachs and taking up both of the big, comfy couches, hummed in contented agreement. “Though maybe not as much as _you_ two like it,” Tony snarked.

“We,” Peter began, before exchanging a glance with Steve and shrugging. “Steve gets it.”

“Yes,” Steve said in continued agreement, reaching across to give Peter a lazy high-five.

“We all get it, short stuff,” Tony said, settling in on one of the overstuffed armchairs with a beer and a book. “Everyone heard you getting it, in point of fact.”

“Mmm,” Peter smiled, a pleased flush rising in his cheeks. “Where _is_ Wade?”

“Saw him and Peggy leaving in hiking boots and parkas,” Tony said, sipping his drink. “Said something about a yeti or a moose. Wade was holding a crossbow, maybe? I wasn’t paying attention.”

Steve and Peter exchanged twin looks of alarm, because _surely_ not. “Pretty sure they were having you on, Tony,” Steve said evenly. Still. “Hey, Buck?”

Bucky stuck his head into the room from where he’d been working on Boxing Day macaroni and cheese (which...wasn’t a thing until Bucky said it was a thing). “Yes?”

“Did...Peggy and Wade go out to hunt a moose?”

“No,” Bucky said, fixing Steve with a funny look. Steve breathed a sigh of relief. “They went hunting Bigfoot.”

“Oh, geez…” Steve sighed, levering himself up. He was a bit stiff and sore from the morning’s activities, but the worst of the welts were already healing right up. “I’ll go…”

“Peggy _also_ ,” Bucky continued. “Said that if you left the couch for any reason other than taking a piss, she’d bring you back to the woodshed before dinner.”

“Ha!” Tony cried.

Peter hid his smile as Steve groaned, lowering himself back down. Peggy never made idle threats.

“Don’t worry,” Peter said reassuringly. “I’m...ninety percent certain bigfoot isn’t real.”

“Your confidence is overwhelming, Peter,” Steve said wryly. “Thanks.”

“Either way, Wade can protect Peggy and Peggy can protect Wade, right?” Tony pointed out, opening up his book.

That was true. In theory.

Still, when Peggy and Wade returned ninety minutes later looking smug and secretive, Steve couldn’t help wondering where they’d hidden the body.

 

* * *

 

“Why is this one shaped funny?”

Peter looked at the perfectly-baked cookie that Ellie had picked up from the assortment of perfectly-baked cookies that she was helping him move onto his cooling rack. It was a very carefully-sculpted little scrotum-and-peen cookie.Complete with a slit in the tip.

“ _Wade.”_

“What?” Wade said around the mouthful of cookie he was trying to scarf down without getting caught. “There was excess dough! Did you want me to _waste_ it?”

Ellie giggled delightedly as Peter sighed, putting a huge bag of icing sugar down in front of his beloved. “Water icing. Lots of it. And it had better be _exactly_ the right thickness.”

“Yes, Chef,” Wade answered, meekly, giving Peter a thrilling little flashback to their Xmas-dinner-making experience.

As Peter and Ellie were making their way back into the living room to finish decorating the tree, Peter’s phone dinged with a text message. It was from Cap, and it was a picture of a sad Penguin stuffie being held in the lap of one Bucky Barnes. The text read, “This little guy was under your bed he does not belong to any of my children.”

“Oh, no!” Peter cried as he quickly texted back that Penguin was theirs and to please bring him back from the cabin when they left. “We left Penguin!”

Wade’s torso popped into the living room with comical speed, a stricken look on his face. “It’s okay, Bucky’s taking care of him,” Peter reassured.

Wade returned to his icing, looking relieved. They had been so excited for Xmas with Ellie that they’d left the cabin in a bit of a blur the day before. But everyone else was coming back after New Years, and they were planning an Epiphany dinner together at the Avengers compound (and no one but Steve seemed to know what Epiphany was except a way of prolonging Xmas fun and that was all that mattered.)

“Want to watch _Nightmare_ while we ice cookies, Boss?” Peter asked his kinda-kiddo.

“Yeah!” Ellie agreed, grinning brightly as she hung their homemade Spidey, Deadpool, and Mini-Miss Wolverine ornaments on the very front of the tree. “And then _Rocky Horror_?”

Peter was not sure how _Rocky Horror_ had come to be a Xmas tradition for their weird little fam, but far be it from him to question. “For sure, if Dad says it’s okay.”

“It’ll be kind of late, Ellie-Belly,” Wade chimed in, “don’t you want to go to bed so Santa can come?”

Ellie and Peter exchanged an understanding glance. She would be thirty years old and her dad would still insist on behaving as if she still believed in Santa.

“As long as we can watch _Rocky Horror_ tomorrow,” she allowed, magnanimously.

Once cookies were iced and their kiddo (who was actually yawning pretty frequently by the time Jack was saving Santa and Sally from Oogie Boogie) was all tucked into bed, Spider-mom and Dadpool tackled the Giant Playset of Doom. It was similar in size to the one that had been given to Little Peter and his sibling/cousins, but it was less Disney and more Mad Max, aesthetically.

“How the happy fuck did you four put one of these together in two hours?” Peter asked after pinching his finger for the eighth time.

“The magic of Xmas?” Wade offered, kissing his love’s injured digits.

Not long after, the Playset was constructed, stockings were stuffed, and two tired but very happy Santas snuggled up together with their cookies.

“Perfect water icing, you,” Peter praised, giving Wade a cookie-flavored kiss.

“Yay!” he squeed, kissing back. “I’m sorry I made a dick cookie.”

Peter smirked, the light of their little Xmas tree dancing on his sassy, pretty face. “No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. Will you please eat it while I watch?”

Rolling his eyes _hard,_ Peter took the offered cookie and ate it “slowly,” just as Wade requested, because he loved him very much.

 

* * *

 

“I think Wade and Peter want to go to Switzerland for Xmas next year. Are you seeing this?”

Tony sighed. He had been resolutely ignoring the pictures of happy skiers in the Alps that Peter and Wade had been spamming their group-chat with since Epiphany dinner. (Tony still wasn’t sure what Epiphany was but _man_ did it taste like delicious Italian food.) He looked at his phone now to see that Bucky had recently replied with a picture of a very sad person wearing a full-leg cast.

“Can he even _break_ his leg?” Tony wondered aloud. “I think you and I are the only ones who can actually _break_ things.”

“Good thing we’re such excellent skiers,” Pepper said with a significant look.

Tony held out all of two seconds before saying, “Let’s do it. We’re in.”

“Hooray,” she said with a grin, turning to her laptop. “But I’m finding the cabin this time.”

“Yes! Good, we can ask about sound-proofing.” Tony rested his hands on her shoulders, leaning down to plant a kiss on her temple. “Did you, um -- you had fun, right?”

Pepper stopped clicking through pictures of various Swiss ski cabins to turn to him. “At the cabin?”

Tony nodded, suddenly very self-conscious, and Pepper smiled at him the way she did when he was actually being vulnerable for a moment. “I had a wonderful time. I love our friends.”

She leaned up and kissed him. “And I love you,” she said when they broke apart. “You are _adorable._ ”

Tony shrugged, but he felt himself blush. “I know. Seriously, though -- best Xmas ever?”

Pepper nodded, indulgently. “Best Xmas ever.”

They continued searching through pictures of luxurious Swiss cabins as Wade sent increasingly more obscene images of people in lederhosen to the group chat. Ah, next year.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow us both on Tumblr at [crockzilla](https://crockzilla.tumblr.com) or [notlucy](https://notlucy.tumblr.com). 
> 
> The first vignette is from crockzilla and will be posted sometime tomorrow!


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